


Out of His Depth

by GloriaMundi



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: C17, First Time, Gift Fic, Historical, M/M, Missing Scene, Pirates, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-01
Updated: 2004-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:25:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaMundi/pseuds/GloriaMundi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's out of his depth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of His Depth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dolimir](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dolimir).



> Best Romance in **Merry's World Awards for Fanfic Excellence 2003**, yay!

Earlier that afternoon, when they were still within sight of Port Royal, Will would've said that things couldn't get worse. Here he was on board a stolen ship, property of His Majesty's Royal Navy, with a pirate so ... so infamous that even _Will_ had heard of him. Via Elizabeth, of course. It all came back to Elizabeth.

And he'd bet that Elizabeth would've asked, too, whether it was safe to sail out of sight of land.

Jack Spa -- _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, thought Will, with a subvocal sigh -- was laughing at him.

"What you scared of, boy? Pirates?"

He leered.

Will tried, with dignity, to explain that he'd only ever been on board one ship, the _Dorset Rose_, and he hadn't felt safe for a single minute. He'd been seasick the first few days out of Bristol; then, just as he'd become used to the pitch and yaw of the vessel's motion, there'd been a dreadful storm. And finally, just as he was getting used to the awful food and the claustrophobia and the lack of any privacy at all, the _Dorset Rose_ had been attacked by ... Well. Yes. Pirates.

"Elizabeth saw me in the water," he said, looking down at his hands. "I owe her my life."

He didn't remember any of it, of course, but Elizabeth liked to tell the story. She said it explained why he didn't like to swim out of his depth, or play hide'n'seek after dark. Will thought that was just common sense, but he never tried to argue with Elizabeth.

"And you're sailing off in bad company to rescue her," said Jack Sparrow, grinning. "Isn't that lovely? Now, boy --" and he leant in, making Will feel claustrophobic all over again, although there was the whole wide deck to walk upon "-- is there anything else you're scared of? Women?" He looked Will up and down, top to toe, like someone appraising a pig at market. "Men?"

"Of course n--"

"Me?"

The Captain's smile was positively predatory, and he was close enough now that Will could see the pores of his skin.

"Pirate," said Will, scowling and pushing past him.

"And don't you go forgetting it," said Jack from behind him, and Will bit back an angry retort at the smile he couldn't even see.

Jack had promised to help him find Elizabeth, but at what cost? It was bad enough being afloat. Worse being afloat mid-ocean, out of sight of land, on a commandeered -- on a _stolen_ ship, a Navy ship, with a notorious pirate who'd been in the sun too long.

Surely it couldn't get worse than this.

* * *

"Lovely place, Tortuga. Charming people."

"Delightful," said Will thinly, trying not to stare. He knew it was ridiculous, but he was worried that he'd meet someone he knew. Someone who would see him with this ... this _pirate_, and draw conclusions. It wasn't as though Jack Sparrow was making any effort not to be noticed. Quite the contrary; his flamboyant manner was attracting attention from all sides. Probably everyone was looking at Will and thinking how much he reminded them of his father. ("I swear you look just like 'im"). Probably everyone thought Will was a pirate, too.

"All we have to do," said Jack, halting and drawing Will closer with a hand on his arm, "is to find the man who knows the finest sailors in Tortuga."

Will managed not to flinch. "I suppose you know him?"

The light from the lamps strung along the inn-front made Jack Sparrow's gold teeth glitter. "Course I do, Will."

There followed an hour or so of trailing after Jack Sparrow as he visited all the least savoury establishments in this less-than-savoury port. After the third dingy tavern, Will stopped asking questions; stopped speaking at all, in fact. He stood behind Jack, hand on his sword, eyes shifting nervously whenever anyone moved. His shoulders started to ache with the need to have a wall at his back. Nothing in the smithy had prepared him for this.

It was becoming harder to keep thinking of Elizabeth.

"Lighten up, lad," said Jack, hooking his arm companionably through Will's and leading him down an alleyway beside the _Mermaid's Glory_, a tavern notable only for the painted sign that had made Will blush.

Jack Sparrow was as steady, or unsteady, on his feet as ever, despite the rum he'd drunk in each tavern that they'd visited. Will, who had refused to drink any more after his first draught of Tortugan ale, tripped on a loose stone. Only Jack's suddenly-strong grip saved him from landing face-first in the dirt.

"Thanks," he muttered, pulling away. Trying to pull away. Jack leant in close, fingers tightening almost painfully on Will's arm. He raised an eyebrow.

"Just a quiet word of advice, Will Turner," he said softly. "Tortuga holds many dangers for a young man who's never ventured away from his home before. Especially if that young man is obsessed with rescuing his lady-love, and not over-wise in the ways of the world. Savvy?"

Will, choking on an unwise rejoinder, made himself nod.

"Many dangers," reiterated Jack, winking. "But I'm not one of them. So you might think of trusting me, boy. Just for now. Just until you have reason not to."

"And when will that be?" said Will heatedly.

Jack's grin caught the light again. "Wait and see, mate. Aha!"

The stench here was worse, much worse, and Will -- who had been distracted by the apparent sincerity of Jack's request -- realised that they were standing outside a pigsty.

"You're looking for a pig?" said Will, uncertainly.

"I'm looking for a _man_," Jack said; then he paused, about to duck through the low doorway, and grinned at Will with such good humour that Will couldn't help grinning back.

* * *

Easy to say that he'd trust Jack Sparrow, Will reflected later as he stood watch in yet another tavern, straining to eavesdrop on the Captain's conversation with a still-damp, still-pungent Gibbs. Easy to say, harder to do. The way Jack was gesturing, leaning closer to Gibbs; the way he'd made Will stand out of earshot, as though there was something that Jack thought he shouldn't hear.

Jack Sparrow might claim he wasn't a danger to Will, but Will thought he was probably just as bad as anyone else in the tavern: whores, pickpockets, brawling ruffians ... given what he'd seen of Tortuga, even the goat on the bar was probably a danger.

His instincts told him that Jack Sparrow was the worst threat of all. That was the only explanation for the way his eyes kept returning to the nook where Jack and Gibbs sat.

"'ere on yer own, love?"

He was being addressed by a young la-- a young _woman_, Will corrected himself hastily. Her hair was alarmingly red, her bodice was too low for modesty, and her eyes were painted like Jack Sparrow's, though by a rather neater hand.

"I'm with ... with friends," Will said politely, glancing back at the two men.

"Oh, I _see_," said the redhead knowingly, and she winked at Will just as Jack had done. "Well, there's no reason for you to be standing here on your ownsies like this when they're over there having a catch-up, now is there?"

Her hand was small and hot, and it was on Will's arm, pulling at him. It wouldn't be polite to flinch or pull away.

"They'll never notice you're gone," she coaxed, tugging his hand.

"I -- I'll just stay here," said Will, averting his eyes from the expanse of white skin between face and dress, and trying not to think about what she was offering.

"Half-price, love. Just for you."

Will swallowed. "I don't," he said. "That is. I haven't any --"

"Lend you some, mate," came an unwelcome voice from behind him. Will set his teeth.

"No, Jack, it's --"

"Two for the price of one, love," said the whore, smiling sweetly at Jack Sparrow. "Can't say fairer than that."

"Well," began Jack, smiling right back at her. "That's a good bargain, an excellent --"

"Jack ...." growled Will, caught between embarrassment and irritation.

"-- and we'll be more than happy --"

"Jack!" said Will, more forcefully.

"-- to accept ..._What?_" he demanded, spinning round to glare at Will.

Will stood his ground. "No," he said. "Thank you. You don't have to lend me money, or -- or go halves with me, or anything. I'll just stay here."

Jack looked at him anxiously.

"Are you --"

"No, I'm not a bloody eunuch!"

"Easy, Will. Just making sure you're sure," said Jack with a placatory gesture, looking at Will with something that might have been disappointment.

Will swallowed. "If you," he said. "You don't have to. I mean, I'll wait for you. Here."

Jack's mood, always changeable, seemed to have swung back to its sunniest. There was something a bit fierce about his smile, but at least he was smiling.

"Not at all, Will, not at all!" And, over his shoulder to the whore, "'nother time, love, all right?"

"I didn't mean --" said Will, acutely aware of Jack's hand on his shoulder, and of having spoilt Jack's evening. Would it have been so dreadful to say yes, just this once, and --

His mind supplied him with a picture of himself and Jack with the redhead. There was a lot of bare skin in the picture, some of it very tanned. Will swallowed, and tried not to blush.

"No worries," said Jack cheerfully, quite oblivious to his predicament. "We'd best get back on board, anyway." He gestured towards the door of the tavern.

"But I thought --" Will broke off, stepping carefully over a prone figure in the doorway.

"I know what you thought," said Jack, steering him out of the tavern and leaning close in that sly, confiding way that made Will's spine tingle. "You thought ol' Jack was desperate to bed one of those fine ladies, eh? Well," he explained, straightening up, "'m not. Not tonight."

"Why not?" said Will, rather aggressively.

"Rather be on board, mate," said Jack after a moment, and his smile glittered in the warm moonlight. "Rather be afloat."

* * *

Jack had rowed to the quayside, so Will, by tacit agreement, rowed back to the _Interceptor_. Jack lounged in the stern, criticising Will's technique.

"Pullin' too hard on the right," he directed. "Be goin' round in circles all night if you're not careful."

Will ground his teeth and pulled harder on the left oar.

"Ever learn to swim?" enquired Jack.

"Of course," said Will, between his teeth.

"Scared of it, though."

"I'm not scared!" Will protested. "I just ... don't like to be out of my depth."

"A man can drown in water that doesn't come to his knee," said Jack. "Out of your depth or not, it's up to you whether you sink or swim."

The shadow of the _Interceptor_'s rigging slid over them like a net. Will twisted around to gauge the distance to the stern-ladder, and when he turned back, Jack was staring at him.

Will stared back. Jack's expression was calm and remote, almost wistful, and his eyes ... Will could _feel_ Jack's gaze on him, like a hand smoothing its way over his skin, like a caress.

Will forgot all about rowing. He forgot to worry about Elizabeth, or the commandeered ship, or having spoilt Jack's evening. He forgot all about the redheaded whore (though not about expanses of tanned skin). He simply looked at Jack, utterly confused by the ... the _pull_ he was feeling.

The dinghy drifted slowly towards the dark cliff-face of the ship's hull. Jack glanced over Will's shoulder, and grinned sudden and sharp: then, in one fluid motion, he was on his feet; his hat was sailing through the air to land on the deck above them; and the little boat was rocking wildly.

"What are --" cried Will, lunging at Jack. Then he was in the water, flailing, trying to gulp air as he went under.

He surfaced, spluttering. The water was surprisingly warm, and very calm: the moonlight made it look like molten metal. Will kicked strongly, very aware of the black depth of water between himself and the sea bed.

"Are you mad?" he shouted at Jack.

"Of _course_ I'm mad," said Jack, rolling his eyes. He had one hand on the capsized dinghy, and was managing to look entirely relaxed. "Notorious for it."

Will lunged towards him again, and ended up bashing his arm against a floating oar. Jack slid away, perfectly at ease in the ocean; he might as well have been taunting Will, who struggled to keep his head above water as he pushed hair out of his eyes. He went for Jack again, and Jack twisted past him, so close that Will could have sworn he felt the heat of Jack's body through the water.

Jack was lithe and comfortable in the sea, but his boots and coat weighed him down, and Will was angry enough to forget all about being in deep water at night. He got hold of Jack's coat-tails and hauled himself in.

This close, through two layers of soaking linen, the warmth of Jack's skin felt like sunshine. He was still smiling, that particular smile that had made Will nervous back in the tavern. He didn't feel nervous now; instead, maybe because of the rum, or the cool water binding his wet clothes to his skin, or the glint and heat of Jack's smile, he felt reckless.

And he hadn't had so much rum that he'd lost sight of what he was doing.

"You lied to me," he accused.

"Pirate," said Jack, blinking at him lazily, not at all as if Will were clinging to him like a drowning man.

"You said you weren't a danger to me," said Will, trying not to meet Jack's dark, amused gaze.

"'M not," Jack countered, drifting a hand onto Will's shoulder.

Will could have said something about lunatics who tipped people out of rowing boats, or about being left to keep watch in a tavern that was packed to the eaves with criminals. If it had been day, or if the sea had not been calm and warm and silver, he might have protested Jack's lack of common sense. But the moon was too bright, and Jack's smile was reeling him in, and Jack's hand was surprisingly gentle on the bare, wet skin above his shirt. Maybe there was something to be said, after all, for madness and risk and being out of one's depth.

Will pulled himself closer to Jack. He was shaking, but not because he was cold. This close, he couldn't help looking into Jack's drowningly-dark eyes. The heat he had seen just now, before Jack capsized the dinghy, was still there; but Jack, he realised, was waiting. Waiting for him.

"Sink or swim, mate," whispered Jack, and Will shivered at the sensation of Jack's warm breath on his neck.

"Sink," he said, and kissed Jack Sparrow.

For a moment he was drowning in the kiss, unable to breathe or see or keep afloat, and his hands tightened on Jack's arms. Then Jack began to kiss him back, mouth astonishingly hot against Will's, legs moving languorously in the dark water beneath them.

Will couldn't get enough of the kiss. He let his body go limp as Jack's tongue twisted around his own, only vaguely aware that Jack had caught hold of one of the lines trailing from the _Interceptor_'s stern. Much more important that Jack was still kissing him, that Jack's other hand was stroking the back of his neck and making him shiver ...

"Cold, Will?" said Jack, tipping his head back from the kiss to look Will in the eye again. He licked his lips, and grinned.

Will couldn't speak. He was breathing hard, clinging to Jack like a ... well, like a drowning man. The thought made him laugh.

"I swear you've gone mad," said Jack, looking pleased. "They never said it was contagious." He moved aside to let Will scramble up the step-notched side of the ship first.

Will stood on deck, dazed, until Jack slid over the rail to join him, the still-stoppered rum bottle swinging from one hand. "Now, Mr. Turner," he said, "I must insist that you take yourself below and strip off those wet clothes. Can't have the crew catching a chill."

Will looked his Captain up and down, frankly appraising. Jack's wet clothes clung to his body, and seawater gleamed on his exposed skin. Unaccountably, Will wanted to lick it off.

Dangerous, very dangerous.

"Why don't you set me an example, Captain?" he said, smiling.

Jack grinned back at him. "Still shivering, mate. Have some rum; that'll warm you up."

"I can think of better ways to warm up," said Will, greatly daring, and not quite sure what he was suggesting. Jack's water-beaded skin was dark under the soft moonlight, and Will wondered if it would really be as tanned as he'd imagined. Wondered how his own pale skin would look against Jack's, lit by the lantern in the cabin below ...

Will blushed, and grinned.

Then Jack was smiling at him wickedly, taking Will's hand and reeling him in for a kiss that was warm as summer. Will shut his eyes and let the kiss close over his head, like drowning. He was out of his depth again, he knew, but this time he wasn't afraid.

Jack held on to him, and Will let himself be swept away.

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **dolimir** for **Yuletide** 2003\. My first Yuletide fic!


End file.
